


Spider-Man: Return Home

by ALittleBitofThis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Beating, Broken Bones, Caretaking, Concussions, First Meetings, I literally never follow canon, I'm Bad At Tagging, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Steve is an old fart, Whump, for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleBitofThis/pseuds/ALittleBitofThis
Summary: Peter goes out for the first time since the events of Endgame and swings directly into a new enemy, Wilson Fisk. When the teenager fails to come home, Rhodes goes out looking for the kid that his best friend adored.~~I wrote this with the intention of whump, but it ended up being some whump, some fighting, and about 1/3 awkward recovery and introductions to the Daredevil team. Lots of sad, soft fluff as well, since it's only been three weeks since the movie occurred. Not Far From Home compliant because summer hasn't happened yet.
Relationships: Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Spider-Man: Return Home

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted for a hot minute, but I've been working on this intermittently in the last couple months. I didn't beta it, but it should still read decently. Even though the actors have had some comments irl about their characters and their placement in the timeline and blip, I set this up so that the events of Marvel's Daredevil all happened in the 5 years of the snap. Rhodes and the other non-dusted Avengers would've met Matt Murdock once or twice in those five years, I assume. Anyway, Peter gets beat up, and then he gets to meet Matt and Karen.

“You sure about this?” May asked, leaning against his doorway. Peter sat on his new bed, wearing the original suit that Tony had given him. His Iron Spider suit was in its pod in the corner, but he hadn’t had the heart to put it on since the battle.

“Yeah. I think it’s time,” Peter said. He messed with his mask in his hands. “I mean, we’ve both seen the news.” The city was a disaster and going on its third week of being in a State of Emergency. He and May had gotten a new apartment, but most people weren’t that lucky. The population of New York City doubling overnight had left thousands of people displaced. Looting had been widespread while the banks scrambled to reactivate accounts, and the streets were crowded around the clock as people wandered between hastily assembled relief centers. Peter couldn’t keep ignoring it. He’d used the excuse of having to unpack too many times.

“Ok. Don’t patrol longer than you feel the need, and come home if things start to get too crazy,” May walked forward and gave him a brief kiss on the forehead. “Be safe.”

“I will,” Peter promised. He gave May a soft smile, and he pulled on his mask. He perched on the sill of his open window and gave a brief salute. “See you soon.”

* * *

Peter knelt down on the edge of a rooftop, watching an intersection. The police seemed to have this particular robbery under control, but he was hanging around, just in case. He was about halfway back to his apartment. He’d swung out to the docks, as he figured a lot of people were sheltering there. He’d helped talk down a few people and settled a few families. There were a few warehouses, probably of higher value, that had armed guards, and Spider-Man checked in with them to make sure there wouldn’t be any problems. Now, he’d just been stopping wherever there seemed to be anything going on.

The police had de-escalated the conflict below, so Peter moved on. He hopped across to the next building and found some people in a loading dock behind the building. They had a white van and a black hearse, of all things, and some of the men were prepping a big box to go into the hearse. It didn’t look like a coffin.

“That’s weird, don’t you think, Karen?” Peter asked. He squatted down on the edge and looked for any open boxes. “Droney, see what you can find.” The small spider floated off his chest before quietly investigating the boxes below. The drone scanned the boxes and found outlines of what looked like alien guns. Maybe from the battle?

“Looks like we found the Toomes 2.0,” Peter mumbled. He watched the small drone slip past a couple people into the hearse that had an even larger gun surrounded by tiny ones, so… yeah. Definitely not a person. It was a fair cover. No one would really want to pull over a hearse. A woman closed the back of the hearse, trapping Droney inside. Everyone else got into a front seat or the back of the van to roll out. 

“You up for a little swing?” Spider-Man asked.

“Always,” Karen chirped. Spider-Man waited for the vehicles to pull out and leave, and he kept a loose follow. They went toward the center of the city, and before Peter knew it, he was near Midtown and Hell’s Kitchen. The cars pulled into a garage under a skyscraper, and Peter swung down after them, sticking to the ceiling of the garage. After they were a hundred yards in though, the garage door closed. Peter was getting serious deja vu.

“How thick are those?” He asked quietly.

“2 feet of reinforced steel,” Karen chirped. Peter scoffed. Wonderful. He dropped down from the ceiling and landed lightly behind a truck, following the cars further in. They pulled up to an elevator.

“Alright, let’s unload,” A man said, hopping out of the truck. He double tapped the side.

“Ok. Start recording for evidence. Timestamp and coordinates,” Spider-‘N said. He’d learned his lesson about having enough stuff to actually put people away. “They’re unloading here, so this is a buyer or a bigger seller. To be determined. Either way, I’m not gonna get more from following these guys, so we’re just gonna bag ‘em.”

Peter shook his arms out and bounced lightly in place. Ok. It had been a number of weeks since he fought anybody, and well, that last time was mostly aliens. It was fine. He had this. He switched his left hand to ricochet webs and shot some toward the elevator. It rebounded off a column and Peter heard a cry of surprise. He smirked. Classic.

Spider-Man jumped onto the top of a sedan, eyeing the group of smugglers who easily noticed him. Gunshots started in his direction. Peter sprung toward them, firing his mixture of webs to trap everyone up. He heard the chime of a walkie talkie.

“We need major backup. Level B2!” Someone shouted into their microphone. Crap. After his next dodging roll, Peter sprung directly at them, knocking them to the ground and crushing the radio. He needed to finish up before backup actually came. He had a few minutes, he figured.

Spider-Man scrambled back before someone had a chance to shoot him, hiding behind the white van. He looked underneath it to see 3 or 4 sets of feet headed for him. Peter shoved the van forward, hitting all of them to knock them back. The elevator binged.

Spider-Man stood up as what had to be a dozen more men came out, not just armed, but armored. He shot a taser web to the elevator, but not before they’d already made progress toward spreading out. The teenager bent his knees slightly, ready to go, but not sure which direction to launch. They’d already surrounded him, surprisingly fast, so Peter looked around and chose the direction he thought they’d least expect— the elevator. He didn’t go into the elevator, but he landed in front of it and tasered the control panel for it to stop anyone else from coming down.

Peter fought his way through the group, but he felt like there were more than he’d originally counted. He landed at the end of a row of cars, and he saw some people coming from that direction. Another elevator? Peter’s stomach twisted suddenly, and he looked back in front of him. One of the thugs had opened the shipping crate, and they were aiming one of the alien guns and him. Peter flipped over the hood of the sedan, landing in the small space between it and a bigger car.

When the blast of energy hit the side of the car where Spider-Man had been standing though, the front end smashed into Peter’s torso, trapping him against the other car. Peter’s next breath was a wheeze, and his brain tried to panic that he couldn’t breathe.  _ No, I’m just winded! _ Peter shouted at himself.

The butt of a rifle struck Peter’s temple, flashing his vision white. Spider-Man searched through the blinding light for direction, and he fired a web to his left without really seeing where it went. He distantly heard someone swear.

“I can’t breathe,” Peter gasped.

“You’re too high up. You’re running out of air,” Tony said. Peter’s brain swirled, but it made sense. The metal was pushing up on his ribs. Spider-Man wedged his arm up and forced the car away, scrambling to his feet. He looked around.

“Tony?” Peter looked for him, but it was just thugs. But Tony just gave him advice? He— someone kicked the back of Peter’s knee, forcing that leg to give out. Peter fell, but he landed on that knee and lashed out with his other leg, swiping the feet out from under the man behind him. Gunshots filled the room as his gun accidentally discharged, and there was a moment where everyone scrambled for cover.

Peter tried to clear his head, but whoever hit him had definitely given him a concussion. It was time to stall a bit. He shot some web grenades in the direction of where he’d seen some people dodge for cover, but he soon felt a punch hit the back of his head.  _ Oh come on! _

Spider-Man caught the next punch, spinning around and flipping the guy into the floor. He had just shot a web to keep him there when a taser caught him in the neck. Peter yelped and managed to knock the arm with the taser away, but his body was buzzing, and there was an arm around his throat now. Peter couldn’t see who was holding him. It felt like a ghost arm.

Spider-Man shifted his weight to kick behind him, but he was pulled backward by the choking hold, and his feet scrambled to get back under him. Peter struggled in the grip, pulling on the arm, but his arms reflexively dropped to block a fist that was going for his stomach. Peter held that fist and tried to kick the new woman in front of him, but he didn’t succeed. The chokehold felt tighter.

Spider-Man thrashed in the mystery man’s grip, but it got him nowhere, only using up what little oxygen he had to fight back. His vision was already starting to go. He reached up and behind him, finding some purchase in a head full of hair and pulling. He heard a yell, and his hand was knocked away. His captor’s second hand covered his nose and mouth. In a moment of unprofessional panic, Peter went back to uselessly tugging the arm that choked him out.

* * *

Spider-Man cracked his eyes open, but he closed them again at how bright it was. He tilted his head to the side and tried to open his eyes again. His vision took a few moments of furious blinking to focus, but he could see bars in front of him. He rolled the rest of his body onto his side but instantly recoiled with a groan.  _ That hurt. _

Peter clutched at the ribs that were now sending him stabs of pain, making it clear that lying on his side was not an option. He heard footsteps and turned his head again to see the legs of someone. He looked up to see a man in a suit. The man looked at him and tapped his phone, bringing it to his ear.

“Yeah… he’s up,” The man said, and then he turned away. Peter frowned. Someone else was coming. Spider-Man checked out the rest of his cell, which was really just concrete on three sides with bars as the last one. He forced himself into a sitting position, leaning himself against the wall. His ribs protested the movement, but he didn’t want to be lying on the floor. It would be kinda embarrassing.

A few minutes later, Peter heard heavy footsteps approaching. He looked up as a large man came toward the cell. Like, really large. He was almost square, with how broad his shoulders were, and it wasn’t helped by his lone, bald head or the fact that his suit had pointy shoulder pads. Spider-Man stayed quiet, unsure of if a quip would work at the moment.

“Open the cell,” The large man ordered. Peter’s guard nodded and started to twist the key. Spider-Man started to lean forward, but the half dozen men that had been flanking the large man all raised their guns toward the vigilante. Peter hesitated.

“If you’re going to cause any trouble, I promise you, now isn’t the best time,” The large man said. Spider-Man leaned back into the wall. The men nodded and opened the door, closing and locking it again once the large man was inside. Peter did have a quip in him now.

“That’s pretty bold,” Spider-Man quipped, even with his hand still placed protectively on his stomach. “Locking yourself in here with me.” The large man chuckled.

“I’m not afraid of you,” The large man said. He stepped a few feet closer to Peter, and even if Spider-Man was on his feet, the height would be best described as towering. “We’re gonna be partners, you and me.” Peter tilted his head.

“I’m not on the market for a partner,” Peter said firmly.

“I’m not asking,” He twisted one of the metal rings on his fingers in the silence that followed. Peter shifted experimentally, but it made his stomach churn. He just mentally prepared himself that when he did fight, it was gonna hurt.

“A lot’s changed since the blip,” He explained. “My name is Wilson Fisk. I own crime in this city. You hear that? Not just control, but own. I’m not just the biggest stake. Every stake in the city gives me some of its dirt.”

“That’s quite a confession,” Spider-Man mumbled. “Well, this town ain’t big enough for the two of us, so…” He started to get up, but in what was a surprisingly fast move, Fisk kicked him in the now-exposed torso. Peter yelped in surprise as he collided with the wall again, and Fisk’s foot was soon pressing on his stomach to keep him there. Spider-Man grabbed his ankle and looked up at him, waiting for the right moment.

“I said it wasn’t an option,” Fisk growled. “Now you can either shut up and accept—“ Spider-Man yanked his ankle to the side, throwing the man off balance. Fisk stumbled back, and the younger hero quickly scrambled to his feet. The world spun, and as his vision tried to condense into something comprehensible, Spider-Man felt a looming threat and put his arms up to protect his chest from the punch that was actually aimed for his face. Peter stumbled sideways with the force of the knuckles hitting his cheek, and he collided with the bars with a resounding bang. Ok. Not doing so hot.

“Listen up,  _ Spider-Man _ ,” Fisk grabbed Peter by the throat, shoving him back against the concrete wall. “You and I are gonna make a deal, and while my lawyers figure out what exactly the terms are, well, I’m gonna make sure you’re willing to accept.”

“Yeah. Not gonna… not gonna happen,” Spider-Man managed around the hand gripping his neck. The hand tightened and began to push Peter up against the wall, lifting him so that he had to strain to touch the ground. No— correction: he couldn’t touch it now. Peter grabbed the burly hand with both of this own, but the fingers were too tight for him to get in there and loosen the grip on his own. He was running out of air.

“What was that?” Fisk asked lightly. “You’d like to shake my hand? It’s open.” Fisk held his free hand out between them. Peter whimpered, unable to stop himself from struggling as he felt his face turned red. Fisk held steady, waiting. Peter slapped his hand away.

Fisk’s mouth curled downwards, and he flung Spider-Man into the other wall. Peter hit the ground and sucked in air greedily. He wrestled an arm underneath himself and pushed himself to his hands and knees right before Fisk kicked him in the stomach. Peter let out a quiet grunt of pain but managed to stay up. Come on! He needed a second here!

Fisk kicked him again and again until Peter finally fell over, and then he kicked him in the face. Peter felt his nose break, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Fisk was grabbing the front of his uniform and yanking Peter to a sitting position so that he could wail on his face. It took Spider-Man a muddled second to get his arms up to protect himself, and when he did, Fisk stopped and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away. Peter glanced up at Fisk.

“Last chance. Shake my hand, or I can show you how  _ little _ you’re actually worth to me,” Fisk threatened. Peter swallowed. He knew better than to make deals with the devil. He caught his breath a bit.

“I will..,” Spider-Man said, although it came out as hoarse. He curled his hand into a fist. “I will take down… every. last. one… of your  _ dumb _ deals.”

Bones cracked audibly as Fisk crushed Peter’s thin wrist in his hand. Spider-Man cried out, trying to pull his wrist back. Fisk grabbed his elbow and yanked the web-slinger forward. His forearm snapped. Peter screamed this time, scrambling to get his arm back to safety once Fisk let go.

“You’re going to regret that,” Fisk growled. With his ego thrown out the window, Peter curled in on himself protectively. He clenched his eyes shut as the man went to hit him again, but instead, a hand grabbed his ankle, dragging Spider-Man toward the center of the cell. Peter opened his eyes again as he found himself prone, and Fisk was standing over him, one foot on either side of his waist. Fisk lifted his fists above his head. Peter’s heart bailed on him. The man brought both fists of steel down on Peter’s chest, breaking even more of his ribs. Peter gasped and went to reach for his chest, but he couldn’t risk another blow to the arms. Spider-Man painfully propped himself on his elbows and slid backward ever so slightly, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t try to scramble away,” Fisk scoffed. “It’s pathetic.” He set his foot on Spider-Man’s ankle, stopping him. Yeah, Peter was stronger than Fisk, but he didn’t want anything else broken. He tried to think of a way to end the conversation or the beating or whatever this was. He wasn’t going to agree, though.

“I’m just trying to get away from your stench,” The teenager hissed. Spider-Man twisted his ankle to the side and tried to pull it back, but it didn’t quite work. Fisk’s foot caught the toe of his boot and pinned it back down. Peter clenched his teeth in frustration. He couldn’t believe he was playing footsie with a crime boss. Fisk pressed some of his weight onto Peter’s foot now, who reflexively reached for it and then stopped himself from interfering.

“Are we going to do this all day?” Fisk asked dryly. “I have the time, but we could both spend it better.”

“Nope. I don’t make deals with the bad guys. That’s rule like… uh… 5?” Peter stalled. “Rule 5?”

Fisk leaned more on Spider-Man leg, the grove of his soles digging into Peter’s calf and foot. Peter felt that area bruising and before he could stop himself—

“Stop!” Peter’s face turned red under the mask as he realized what he’d done, but he also  _ was _ wearing the mask, so he could try and cover it up. They hadn’t seen the blatant fear in his face about not being able to walk. He quickly found something and started talking. “I gotta be like— I gotta be  _ super _ honest with you, man. Your shoulders are like…  _ huge _ . Like they are so broad. Is your suit custom made or do you just go to the plus section or does anyone ever ask about them? Can you fit through a door normally, or do you have to kinda turn sideways and—“

“Shut up,” Fisk snapped, pressing down on Spider-Man’s ankle. Maybe pissing him off hadn’t been the best move, but it was the only one Peter could think of.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m just impressed. How much do you lift?” Peter added. He could personally lift a bus, but this Fisk guy could break bones at will, so he was at least a little curious, outside of his panicking survival brain.

“Enough to kill you,” Fisk snarled. However, he took his foot off of the vigilante, annoyed. “Tell someone when you’re ready to discuss your options like a grown up.”

The crime boss walked to the edge of the cell, where the door opened for him. A couple of his guards raised their guns toward Spider-Man as Fisk walked out, just in case he tried to follow. He stayed where he was.

“Oh, and boys, feel free to soften the deal. It’s your jobs on the line if Spider-Man tries to interfere with the business,” Fisk said lightly. He started to walk away. Some of the men walked into the cell with Peter, who tensed.

“Hold on to him,” A man with a black eye said. “He gave me this shiner earlier, and I’d like to return the favor.”

Peter winced as an arm around his throat dragged him backward. Knees dug into his lower back as he was held against a pair of thighs. A hand grasped at the fabric of his mask, and Peter thrashed.

“No!” Peter shouted, finding a renewed sense of struggle. His keeper tried to hold the prisoner still, but Peter was struggling  _ hard _ . It was enough to make Fisk actually turn around.

“Leave it,” Fisk said, and Peter felt a surge of gratitude followed by a wave of shame for feeling said gratitude. “Masks are to protect those you love. I respect that. I want Spider-Man, not some random person.”

The grip on his mask disappeared, and Peter relaxed in relief. It wasn’t until the first punch hit his face that he remembered the rest of the danger.

* * *

Rhodey fumbled, looking for the small device within the crumpled up sheets. He finally found his phone, and he saw Pepper calling. “Hey.” He looked outside at the dim morning light, and he remembered to lower his voice. “What’s up?”

“Can you come over here? I need to talk to you,” Pepper said. Rhodes sat up. She sounded worried.

“Yeah. Give me five,” He said. Pepper hung up. Rhodes looked at his phone. It was 5am. He was in his temporary bedroom. Well, it was a guest bedroom in the Stark guesthouse, but, well, Rhodey hadn’t really stayed anywhere else since his best friend died. Pepper needed the support, and as much as he tried to think he didn’t, so did he. He found his shoes and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a jacket off the back of a chair.

Rhodes walked along the side of the lake, listening to the gravel crunching beneath his feet. He walked up the back steps of the porch, entering the house as quietly as possible (not including the soft whirr of his leg prosthetics). Morgan would still be asleep, and he assumed Pepper wanted to keep it that way. He checked rooms as he walked past, and weirdly enough, he found her in Tony’s office. Friday was displaying a map of New York with a blinking red dot.

“Hey,” Rhodes said softly. He looked at the map as he came around the table to stand next to Pepper. “What’s wrong?”

“Something with Peter. Maybe,” Pepper crossed her arms and squeezed her biceps lightly. “May called-- said he never came home. She tried to think he lost track of time, but when the sun started to show… well…”

“Is that him?” Rhodey asked, pointing to the red dot. Pepper nodded.

“Allegedly. You know how they were. Peter wanted to stand on his own, but Tony— did whatever he could to protect him,” Pepper recalled. She gestured toward the holographic model. “They agreed to put a tracker in the suit, but just in case of emergency. It only turns on if one of them asks, so… I asked Friday. I guess Tony trusted me.” Rhodes rubbed her shoulder gently.

“Of course he did,” Rhodes promised. He inspected the location on the holomap and frowned. He recognized that building— that address. “Friday, has he been moving around?”

“Not since my original ping 47 minutes ago,” The AI responded.

“Okay. We’ll take a drive, I guess— me and the others. Check it out,” Rhodes said.

“I don’t know,” Pepper hesitated. “What if it’s nothing?”

“What if it’s not?” Rhodes said back. “If it’s nothing, then we won’t get involved. He’s one of us. The least we can do is check on him.”

* * *

Rhodes hesitated, but he made himself knock on the apartment door. There was a long silence, and Rhodes was about to knock again, but he heard footsteps. Bucky opened the door, sporting one hell of a bed head.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“I need you. I mean— I could use your help,” Rhodes said. He heard another voice from inside.

“Rhodes,” Bucky called back behind him. Sam appeared next to Bucky.

“Do you know what time it is man?” Sam asked.

“8:15. Can you suit up?” Rhodes asked.

“Can we— man, where’s the fire?” Sam huffed.

“I don’t know for sure that there is one, but—“ Rhodes held out his hand to stave off Sam’s objection. “If there is, I’ll need backup.”

“Pfffff,” Sam huffed, rubbing his head. “Fine. Give us 5.” Sam left the door, and Bucky looked Rhodes over before moving aside to let him in.

“Is Steve up?” Rhodes asked.

“Probably is now. I’ll see if he needs anything,” Sam said, disappearing into a room. Since the world’s population had doubled, Sam and Bucky had opted to stay with now-elderly Steve in his Brooklyn apartment, just for the time being. Rhodes stood by the door and waited, not feeling overly welcomed.

Bucky came back to the entryway first. “What’s the problem?”

“Something with Spider-Man,” Rhodes answered.

“That brat we fought in the airport?” Sam asked, strapping his gauntlets into place as he walked.

“He’s a really nice kid, actually; I promised Tony I’d look after him if anything—“ Rhodes trailed off. He cleared his throat. “Look, if my suspicions are right, he’s stumbled into a crime boss he knows nothing about, and even with the three of us, we’re going to be outgunned.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Bucky said dryly. He grabbed an AR from the drawer by the door. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

* * *

Peter must have blacked out at some point, because after a few different men beating him up, he found himself opening his eyes to the floor. Peter shifted his arms in front of him and groaned in pain. His everything hurt. He could feel his lips cracking and tasted the blood on them when he licked them.

Peter must’ve woken up to the banging sound, as he soon became aware of someone hitting metal against metal. Peter twisted his head to see a bodyguard rapping his gun on one of the bars. Fisk stood behind him. Once they noticed he was awake, Peter’s cell was opened again. Peter didn’t try to move, not until someone was grabbing his broken arm and pulling it behind his back. Peter cried out in pain and tried to prop himself up with his other hand. The grip tightened, and a hand squeezed his broken wrist until Peter’s other arm gave out. Peter’s face smacked the ground again, and his cheek throbbed in complaint.

Peter strained his neck to see where everyone was as two men in suits entered the cell. One set a clipboard in front of him, and Peter realized that Fisk was actually serious about this bureaucracy. The other suited man, who Peter was concluding was a lawyer, grabbed Peter’s hand and pushed a pen into it. There was a clear line for Peter to sign.

“Sign this, and then we can start talking as partners instead of competitors,” Fisk said. Peter’s head throbbed, and he couldn’t make out many of the words on the paper, even if he wanted to (he didn’t). Peter looked at all the guns aimed in his general direction. He swallowed.

“What is it?”

“You’re going to avoid my operations, and I’ll feed you our competitors' operations so you can take those out. All of New York crime will be under one umbrella, and I’ll keep it from getting out of control,” Fisk explained. “All you have to do is look the right way.”

“No,” Peter refused. His holder twisted the broken bones until Peter cried out in pain. Peter squirmed underneath him, but he couldn’t get any leverage when the lawyer kept kicking his bracing arm out from under him. Peter fell back to the floor after a minute, panting. Fisk knelt down in front of the bars and looked into Peter’s mask.

“Now Spider-Man, this is a business deal. No one has put a price on your head quite high enough for a mercenary to actually take a shot, but trust me, piss me off, and you will become  _ very _ attractive,” Fisk threatened. Peter closed his eyes for a moment. He wondered briefly if an assassin could actually kill him. Probably… but he was alive so far.

Peter heard a sound. He kept his eyes shut, listening. He heard gunshots, faintly. No one in this room had shifted, so they must not have heard. Peter opened his eyes and looked up at the lawyer who had been sweeping out his arm.

“I need my elbow to sign,” Peter lied. The lawyer nodded and took a step back. Peter maneuvered his working arm back underneath him, holding the pen.  He pretended to read the contract.

“So is there any compensation for this or—“ the gunshots sounded again, this time closer. Fisk’s eyes widened.

“He’s stalling,” Fisk announced. He looked over his shoulder toward the elevator briefly. “Hold him there.”

Peter tucked his chin toward his shoulder as his handler pressed their weight down on his broken ribs and arm. The attention of the room shifted away from Spider-Man, and a moment later, the door burst off its hinges. Peter tried to move, but something hard hit him in the back of his head, making his vision burst static.

Gunfire sounded from both sides of the room, and Peter tried to see who was there, but he could only see the feet of Fisk’s men. The grip on his arms loosened, and Peter felt the weight of the man shifting off of him. Peter startled as his body hit the ground next to him, blood pouring out of a hole in his head. Spider-Man rolled onto his side, trying to get away from the body. He needed to get his senses about him.

Peter looked down the hall and saw a metal arm elbow someone in the neck.  _ Bucky? _ Bucky moved out of the way and Iron Patriot walked past him. Fisk and his bodyguards were already halfway down the other hall, getting away. Spider-Man triggered his webs to go after him, but nothing came out. Damn. He’d been tasered earlier, hadn’t he. His suit must need a reset. Peter reached to manually override his web-shooters, but his other wrist hurt to move. He hissed in pain, but he kept trying.

“Spider-Man,” Rhodes said.

“He’s getting away,” Peter said. Rhodes looked down the hall to see a door closing.

“We can’t catch him right now. We need to go before his backup arrives,” Rhodes said. Peter managed to get onto his feet, ignoring the throbbing of his skull. He lasted almost a full second before the dizziness won over and he crashed into Iron Patriot’s metal chest. Rhodey reflexively caught him.

“Hey,” Sam radioed in. “I don’t know what you’re doing down there, but there’s reinforcements coming.”

“We’re on our way out,” Bucky responded. Bucky kept his gaze by the elevator and stairs near them.

“Spider-Man. We’ll get him later. Can you walk?” Rhodes asked. Peter nodded and started to limp toward the hall. Fisk must’ve bruised his ankle earlier. Rhodey fell in step with him and grabbed Peter’s bicep just in case.

“‘M good,” Peter insisted. Usually he was okay being babied by Mr. Stark and Mr. Rhodes, but Sam and Bucky were here, and Peter was an Avenger now. He could walk. The elevator binged, and something clattered out.

* * *

Peter tried to sit up and tipped sideways.

“Whoa there,” Rhodey said, reaching out to catch him. They were in the backseat of a car, and apparently, Peter’s head had been resting in Rhodey’s lap. His mask was off, and Sam and Bucky were in the front seat.

“Sorry, he just— look, we can’t go to a hospital and you’re our only safe contact in the city,” Rhodey was speaking on the phone, trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder as he held onto Peter. Peter stayed quiet, trying to figure out what happened.

“Thanks… yeah… 20 minutes… if you trust her… see you soon,” Rhodes said. Peter heard the line go dead. Rhodes looked down at Peter. “You okay?”

“‘Mmm okay,” Peter said, although his words slurred more than he liked.

“You passed out over a flashbang.”

“Oh,” Peter said. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Concerning, maybe. It’s just light. You might have a concussion,” Rhodes said.

“Probably do. I think I blacked out when they were beating me earlier.”

“Who?” Bucky turned around in the passenger seat.

“Some of his thugs. They wanted me to sign some deal,” Peter said.

“Did you?” Sam asked.

“No,” Peter said.

“Good. We’re gonna get you checked out. Karen’s out, and I’m not going to jump your suit with you in it,” Rhodes explained.

“It’s just a concussion. He can handle it,” Bucky said. “You heal, don’t you?” Sam smacked Bucky in the shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve got a friend here that I was going to introduce you to anyway. I don’t want to bring you home if you’re still bleeding,” Rhodes explained. Peter nodded.

“Okay. Good. May doesn’t like it when I get hurt, and if she freaks out, I also freak out, and then we both freak out, and then we—“

“I know,” Rhodes cut off Peter’s rambling before Sam got annoyed. “Just sit back. I got you.” Peter exhaled through his mouth and rested his head in Rhodey’s lap. Rhodes rattled off an address to Sam, who gave a thumbs up. Some time later, the car slowed to a stop, and Peter pulled his mask back on.

“Sam, lend Peter your sunglasses,” Rhodes said.

“What?” Sam asked.

“I don’t want him to hurt his eyes,” Rhodes explained. Peter squinted up at him.

“Mr. Rhodes, I think I’m good,” Peter said. He could just close his eyes...

“Yeah, he’s good,” Sam repeated.

"Sam--” Rhodes insisted.

“Fine. Break ‘em, you buy ‘em,” Sam huffed. He took his glasses off his face and passed them back to Rhodes. Peter caught Rhodes’ hand before Rhodes put the glasses on him, glad that he could at least put glasses on himself. They got out of the car, and Peter did have to admit that he had the light sensitivity that normally came with concussions. It was bright outside too. 

“What time is it?” Peter’s brain was still a bit scrambled, so he didn’t complain that Rhodey was holding his arm again.

“Almost noon,” Bucky replied, looking upward.

“Oh,” Peter said. His brain took a moment to process it. “ _ Oh. _ May--”

“May knows you’re with me,” Rhodes assured. They were parked in an alley of some sorts, and a back door opened.

“Come on,” Someone said. Rhodes moved forward, taking a limping Peter with him. The others followed. Peter tried to get a glimpse of who they were with, but between the deactivated mask, glasses, and changing lighting, he didn’t get a good look at their face. They followed a man up some stairs and into an apartment. Peter already had questions.

“Is this a safehouse?”

“It’s my house,” The man said.

“Peter, this is Matt Murdock. Matt, this is Peter, but you know him as--”

“Spider-Man,” Matt finished the sentence. “Good to meet you.” Matt held out his hand for Peter to shake, but the side of Peter not being held by Rhodes was the side with a broken arm and wrist.

“Um, this hand is broken, I think, but nice to meet you too,” Peter cracked a polite smile under his mask before remembering that his mask was opaque. There was a moment of silence.

“Right,” Matt gestured into his apartment. “You can sit on the couch.”

Rhodes and Peter ventured farther into the apartment, and Sam and Bucky followed them in. Matt locked the door behind them.

“Peter, can you take your suit off so that we can check--” Rhodes started.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah..,” Peter looked over his shoulder at the other men in the room. “Um, can everyone uh… turn around?”

“Man, everyone in the military sees everyone naked. It’s cool,” Sam shrugged.

“Guys,” Rhodes said warningly.

“I mean, we are a bunch of grown men asking a kid to strip,” Bucky reasoned, although he smirked while doing so.

“I’m not a kid. I just--”

“Fine,” Sam rolled his eyes, and both Bucky and Sam turned around. Rhodes did too, after making sure Peter was good to stand on his own. Matt didn’t turn around.

“Um..,” Peter hesitated.

“Oh!” Rhodes said. “Matt is-- he’s..”

“I’m blind,” Matt said.

“Oh,” Peter blinked dumbly. “Sorry.”

“All good,” Matt gave a soft smile. Peter pressed the button to loosen his suit and carefully helped his hurt arm out of it. He stripped down to just his boxers, found a blanket, and laid down on the couch.

“I’m good,” Peter said.

“Good,” Rhodes turned around to look Peter over, carefully, but methodically. Peter tried not to be self-conscious about the bruises littering his torso. Bucky and Sam sat on the other couch, and Matt leaned against the wall.

“It looks like you just took a beating. Anything in your chest feel wrong? Lungs?” Rhodes asked.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged.

“His breathing sounds fine,” Matt chimed in. “Usually if someone pierces a lung I can hear it.” Peter craned his head back to look at Matt, but Rhodes seemed to just roll with it. Rhodes carefully touched Peter’s nose.

“This already healed wrong,” Rhodes noted, pressing down in a few key spots. Peter winced, and Rhodes took his hand away.

“My friend can set it when she gets here,” Matt said.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us crash here. I didn’t want his Aunt to see him if he was too badly hurt,” Rhodes said. Matt nodded.

“Yeah, thanks,” Peter added quickly. Rhodes looked between them.

“So, Peter, Matt does what you do. He’s local, takes cares of New York,” Rhodes explained.

“That’s a bit of an oversimplification, but I’ll take it,” Matt shrugged. “I fight a little dirtier than the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but it’s worked well for me.”

“I never heard of you,” Peter said. He added on hurriedly. “I’m not trying to be rude or anything! I just haven’t…”

“You wouldn’t have. My name didn’t really get out there until after the blip,” Matt said. “I go by Daredevil.”

“Yeah. We all blipped. Otherwise, Peter wouldn’t have such a baby face,” Sam cut in. Peter’s face turned red.

“I’m not a baby!” Peter insisted.

“Ok, punk,” Bucky smirked. Matt smiled too.

“I’m going to grab some water bottles,” Matt excused himself. Peter tilted his head up to peek over the couch, impressed as Matt seemed to have no difficulty navigating. Peter wouldn’t have even known he couldn’t see. Peter’s ears picked up a jingling, and he looked over at Bucky, who was looking at the door too.

“That’ll be Karen,” Matt said. “She’s safe.” He came back to the couch with an armful of bottles as the door opened. A blond woman came in and shut the door behind her. Sam and Bucky were in her line of sight.

“I’m Karen,” She introduced herself. Sam put a hand up in a half-wave.

“Sam,” Sam introduced himself, followed by Bucky doing the same.

“Karen, good to see you,” Rhodes said. She smiled at him.

“You too, James,” Karen said. The two of them locked eyes for a long moment. Sam looked between them and took a sip of his water.

“Thanks for coming,” Matt broke the silence. Karen walked around to where she could see Matt, and she noticed Peter on the couch.

“Spider-Man, right?”

“Yup. Peter,” Peter replied. Karen moved closer and knelt down.

“Someone really did a number on you, huh?” Karen noted. Peter shrugged.

“We need to reset his nose,” Matt said.

“I see that,” Karen said. She touched the sides of his nose and pressed it to the side. It hurt, but his nose didn’t move. Peter fought to keep his head still. “I can set it, but it’s already started to heal. I don’t know if I have the hand strength to re-break it.”

“I got it,” Bucky said. He set his water down and stood up.

“We can always have a medical professional do it, Peter, if you--” Rhodes started.

“Count of three. One..”

“Ahh!” Peter yelled out as Bucky cracked his nose, and Rhodes glared at Bucky hard. Bucky smirked and sat back down. Revenge was sweet, even if it was seven years late. Karen quickly took over, pushing Peter’s nose into the right alignment and taking the roll of paper towels Matt was holding out to her. Peter held a wad of paper towels to his nose while Karen got some tape out of a box.

“So who beat you up?” Karen asked. She carefully lined up a piece of tape.

“A bunch of people,” Peter said, glancing at Rhodes for further guidance. Rhodey frowned.

“We had to pull him out of Fisk’s basement,” Rhodes said. Karen paused, looking back at Rhodes.

“You what?” Matt added, his lips curled downward. Peter didn’t really understand.

“I haven’t heard of him before. You didn’t  _ have _ to get me,” Peter said, trying to save what little dignity he might have here. “Not that I’m upset you did, but I probably would’ve figured it out.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Matt said flatly. Peter raised his eyebrows.

“I told you you'd want to speak to him,” Rhodes said to Matt.

“Who is he?” Peter asked.

“He moved in after the snap,” Rhodes explained. “We knew he was there, but with how much chaos there was, the Avengers didn’t prioritize it. By the time we looped back, he’d already taken hold of most of New York. Matt’s done a few rounds with him.”

“More than a few,” Matt scoffed. Karen’s eyes held a greater level of concern for Peter when she resumed taping his nose.

“You’re lucky you’re not worse,” Karen said. “What did he want with you?”

“I stumbled into his garage, got a teensy bit outnumbered, and he wanted me to sign some contract. Something about letting him keep doing his thing while I took out whoever he didn’t like,” Peter replied. Karen looked past him at Matt, who ran a hand through his hair.

“Wonderful,” Matt said sarcastically.

“Yeah, that’s why I said we couldn’t go after him,” Rhodey told Peter. “One day, sure, but right then and there, we were on his home turf, and we would’ve gotten creamed.” Peter nodded, then apologized to Karen for moving his head.

“Sorry, Doc,” He said. Karen gave him a forgiving smile.

“Oh,” Karen said. “I’m not a doctor. My friend and I have just been taking medical classes since that one over there insists on continually getting his ass beat.”

“I do not get my ass beat,” Matt protested.

“Yes, you do. And before you go grab that damn costume, Foggy and I will kill you if you go fight Fisk alone again,” Karen threatened. Matt snorted.

“Hey,” Sam chimed in. “We’re all here now. We can take this asshole down together.”

“What, are we doing humanitarian stuff now?” Bucky asked. Sam shrugged.

“You got anything better to do?” He asked his friend.

“No,” Bucky said.

Karen carefully lifted Peter’s broken arm and wrist. “This is going to need x-rays and a proper doctor because you have a lot of little bones in your wrist, but after that, sure. We can take him on together.” Karen looked back at Matt. “We’d love it if someone kept Matt from getting himself killed.”

“Or, we get killed together,” Matt joked. Karen rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” Karen huffed.

“I’m down,” Peter said. He shot Matt a mischievous smile. “Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully, the long spout of caretaking was not an issue. It's just Peter being awkward as always, and Rhodey seems to have inherited that "parent peter" bug from Tony's will. Sam and Bucky rub elbows and lightly roast Peter like Sebastian/Anthony do to Tom. Please let me know what you thought.


End file.
